Letters From The Bay, Week 58: Jorts, of course

Dear Universe:

You saucy minx. Acting all like you’re just going to go your way and I’ll go mine, and then all of a sudden you’re all WHAMMY! Here you go lady! Early Christmas for you.

Yesterday? Yesterday alone was one for the books. Don’t act like you didn’t plan this whole thing:

“Um, hello, do you like my bike?” a lispy voice said next to me. “I found it in my garage, and tho I thought I’d take it out for a thpin! Do you like it?”

“Um, yeah,” I said, glancing over, looking at the voice, who was tall, with salt and pepper hair winging out from underneath a dirty baseball cap. “It’s very…” I let my voice wander while I looked for the bike he so wished to show off, and when I saw it I could not even help myself. “Oh wow. That bike is… Wow.”

Universe, as you know, the voice was a tall Spanish man, and he was riding a bike made for an ADD 12 year old. Girl. Circa 1987. It was truly a confection of awesome: banana seat held up by giant silver springs, metallic pink paint job with tiny embedded sparkles, big wheels, a low, curvaceous handle bar. If this bike were a person it’d be a twelve dollar tranny. Hot, in a big, messy girly-man sort of way. You planned that just for me, didn’t you Universe? A gem, you.

“Yeth, I thought it was interethting. But I’m going to Burning Man nexth week, tho I thought it wath okay!”

“Well, I think at Burning Man just about everything’s okay, so you probably don’t have anything to worry about. Unless the naked hippies light it on fire, but you won’t have lost much, right?”

“Ha!” laughed the Spanish man. “Ha! Oh ha! You’re funny, you know that?”

Duh.

“My name is Antonio and I come from Thpain and I am only 39. I uthed to be a lawyer, but now I work in a rethaurant becauth I didn’t want to take the bar. If it meant okay, now I make loth of money, sure, but it dothent mean that, you know?”

“Oh, I see,” I said. “You’d like to make a lot of money for no effort?” Much like his little speech, Antonio was sounding increasingly like an internet scam. I was expecting him to offer me a discount on Viagra next. What about that, Universe? My birthday present, you say? That’s fine. I can wait.

“YETH!” he emphatically replied. “I don’t want to work tho hard! You know juth what I mean!”

You and THE ENTIRE WORLD señor, I thought to myself.

“Yes, I do. I’d like to make a lot of money while napping, which is like putting in negative effort, but I guess we can’t have everything, right?”

“Oh you are so funny! How about if I take your number and we go out sometime?”

Mmm, how about not?

“I’ll give you my e-mail address, but that’s as far as I go,” I told him, trying to lead him in the direction of expecting to be let down the next day, if not right here at this awkward juncture on a bench underneath the Golden Gate Bridge.

“Well okay. Maybe you come to see me at work thometime? Or maybe you come thee one of my showth! I do thand-up comedy!”

That would be ironic, as you have said nothing funny the entire time we’ve been talking, but I didn’t expect you to be funny, which makes you not ironic, and instead, just one more San Francisco creeper, albeit, of the Spanish variety.

“Oh really?” I said out loud. “Well you’re very funny!”

Good Lord I’m a horrible liar.

“Thankth! You too!”

Duh.

As we said an awkward good-bye, Antonio stood up and reached over to shake my hand. As he did so, I noticed he was wearing jorts. For the uninitiated, jorts = jean shorts. Of course he was.

So, let me get this straight, Universe – a 39-year old, graying man with a lisp who works as a waiter and wears jorts? AND has a sweet ride of the hot pink beach cruiser variety? All of my very own?

In the words of my Lutheran ancestors, what wonderous love is this, oh my soul.

You know just what to get a girl for early Christmas.

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2 Comments

Filed under Gentlemen Friends, It's awkward now, Letters from the Bay

2 responses to “Letters From The Bay, Week 58: Jorts, of course

  1. Chach

    Please tell my that he also started sing “Wells Fargo Wagon!!” Oh thister thister!!!

  2. Chach

    Umm, so sorry that is supposed to say me not my. Should not be writing comments after working two 12 hour days in a row.

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